Born a Monster

427 327 – Playing Hookey

The tale of Hattori Hanzo, unless one is exposed to it three times in a single day, is actually quite interesting. I’ll need to go over it one day. Not this day, you understand, but some day.

No, I need not go over the activities that Inquisitors get into on their day off, either.

But let us go to the next day, Vainday. Not for another day of sitting at court, chiefly because seven of the council were drunk. They ruled that I should wait in Common Custody until they decided otherwise, and dismissed the council for the day.

Yes, as I’ve said earlier, it takes a bit more chemistry and less fermentation that we animal-types employ, but dwarves have their own drinks to impair the mind and body.

And so Vainday found me in the company of no less than six Purifiers of Gaia.

“Pardon me,” I said, “but this seems to be away from the Common Custody blocks.” Yes, that term has double meanings. Yes, they are city blocks, and they are each built like a giant cube. One would expect them to have been called the Blocks, rather than the Dice of Despair, but I’ll get to that later.

“Is it?” Sandro asked. “Miltor, the human thing thinks we’re lost.”

“I’m not...” I said.

“He might have a point.” Miltor said. “I do seem to be going this way and not...” he paused. “Whatever way that boring thing he said is.”

.....



“Well, Miltor serves as our urban tracker, so I guess we’re not going where you are.” she said.

“So I should just head that way on my own?”

“Yes.” Dondon said. “We’ll all get in trouble when you show up alone.”

“Unescorted.” Miltor said.

“And certainly not dressed for fashion.” Vatmor said.

I tugged at the chainmail sleeve. “I admit it’s a bit loose for my taste.”

“You’ll want to tighten that up, if you can.” Dondon said. “Especially because... Er, because you never know what might happen.”

I sighed. “Are we heading to the Arena, above? You can just tell me if we are.”

Miltor laughed. “What business would a mismatched group of divine warriors and rogues want with THAT place?”

“Wait, aren’t you all Purifiers?” I asked.

“Among other classes.” Stalin said. “You seem to be one who understands that.”

Hagon cleared his throat. “Perhaps the young one hasn’t heard the tale of Maximus, the Legendary Spear Hero?”

“Quickly!” Sandro shouted, “Double time!”

“Isn’t that the hero who cleared Achea of minotaurs?” I asked.

“No.” Dondon said, playfully cuffing me with the back of his hand. “Don’t ENCOURAGE him!”

“In a sense.” Hagon said. As the one who promised them a glorious death, and led them all here to fight the Gray Lord and his giants.”

“Aye, and then abandoned them within a stone’s throw of Othello. Arse.” Milton complained.

“I thought the Maze pre-dated the mines.” I said.

“Oh, it does.” Hagon agreed. “But older still is the Duhric claim upon this entire mountain range. Imagine our surprise, digging upward to find part of the mountain already hollowed out and inhabited.”
“I blame the scouts for that part of the tale.” Dondon told me.

“Well, now, Tunnel Wardens are called that for good reason.” Hagon soothed. “But sadly, you young lot are in the right; there is little enough time before we reach our destination.”

“What destination?” I asked. “We’ve been taking...” I took in the buildings, the landmarks that towered over the city.

“Well, crap.” I said.

“What did you think purifiers do?” Miltor asked.

We were in the outskirts of the Artisan’s area, which bordered on Professional Services. (And yes, the Craftsman’s Lane.)

Professional services like, “The Asylum.” I said. “What needs done there?”

“Well, we need to assess the situation, and then kill them all.” Miltor said.

Hagon sighed.

“We need to do the right thing.” Dondon insisted.

“And if that turns out to be killing them all?” Sandro asked.

Dondon shrugged. “I’m not wrong to hope otherwise.”

“Want to make it a bet?” the slim dark one asked. Raevik, or something like that.

“Didn’t say I’d taken leave of my senses.” Dondon said.

“Not with a rating four there.” Sandro said. “Eight points of Taint per swath.” she sucked air between the ridges that serve dwarves as teeth.

“What?” I asked. “No, the pool has a force of four POINTS of taint.” I said.

There was a collective exhale from six throats.

“Two.” Raevik said, stroking his imaginary beard. “It’s a rating two Tainted nexus.”

“Half the number of points it generates per ... strike? ... swath?” I asked.

Dondon patted me on the head. “Like the same number of points of damage Might rating two generates.” he chided.

I blinked. “But that’s ridiculous.” I said. “Without proper defenses, how can you...”

Sandro tapped her necklace. “Hex-cut jade.” she said. “And some of us have enough class levels to bolster that with Fortitude abilities.”

“Fortitude abilities?” I asked. “Don’t those unlock at level four?”

“Told you he was smarter than me.” Dondon said.

“Wait.” I said.

“DAMN YOU, SYSTEM!” I exploded, as it returned not a single ability, but a list. Or more properly, a list with overlapping elements. It would show as an array... if only I would invest enough development points to purchase...

Oh. I lowered my fists, before my “guardians” stopped laughing.

“Well, halfway to the proper attitude already,” Raevik said, “And not much more than five years old.”

“What?” Miltor stopped. “Tell me he’s shitting us.”

I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I am a Truthspeaker and can tell you no lies. I was born roughly five years ago.”

“Smarter than Dondon my mossy ass.” Miltor said. “You’re a freakish level of genius.”

I clacked my jaws together, a dwarven gesture of denial. “My Insight rating is only four.” I said.

“He’s not talking about your statistics.” Sandro said.

“Systems would be so much better if they actually measured things accurately.” Hagon said. “But alas, they have to adapt to our perceptions, our understanding of the world we live in.”

“Wait.” I said. “That can’t... I mean... Actually, that fact alone explains a lot of questions.”

“Good.” Miltor said. “It’s that plain building on the left, just past the Protector line.”

“Merciful gods.” I said. “It looks so small from the outside.”

Dondon blinked. “Yeah, it is small.”

“Are we sure it’s the right building?” Raevik asked.

Hagon started forward. “I guess we should ask politely.”

“Hagon!” hissed Miltor. “Hagon, you fool!”

Hagon ignored him. No, I can say that. I know the look I saw on his face. Hagon heard him clearly, and pretended not to.

“And a good Vainday to you, noble Protectors.” Hagon said.

“Ah, Purifiers.” the eldest among them said. “If you’re about to start spouting off holy psalms...”

Hagon waved a hand in dismissal. “Either you’ll let us through to do our jobs or you won’t. Come now, captain. We both know that some time between today and two seasons from now, we’ll have full access to that building, there. Why put off until tomorrow something that we can finish today?”

“Can you finish it today?” the Protector asked.

“Let me do formal introductions.” he said. “I am Hagon, Purifier and Nature Adept.”

“I know that one.” the Protector said, indicating me. “Not by name, but that one moves fast and nimble, like the skinks he resembles.”

“Not a bad analogy.” Hagon said. “From left to right, then. Purifiers only. Talmos, Purifier and Sleuth. Sandro, Purifier and Earth Adept. Dondon, our Maceman.”

“Also a Purifier.” Dondon said.

“Right. I’ll skip the Purifier part for the others, it will save my voice a few words. Miltor, our Investigator. Raevik, Witch Hunter. Vatmor, Stonebinder.”

“You skipped the skink.” the Protector said.

“I am Rhishisikk.” I said. “Among other things...”

.....

“I’ve seen how you run, Skink.” he said. “If you fight even half that well, you’re not with a bad lot to learn from.” He drummed his fingers on the plate that protected the upper front of his leg. “What the hell.” he said. “Gondru! Start taking lunch orders so these riff-raff can sneak past us and into that condemned building, there.”

“Right, captain! Should I take orders for the purifiers, as well?”

“Gondru, we haven’t seen any purifiers today.”

“Well sure we have. It’s not like they’re sneaking anywhere.” Gondru said.

The captain rubbed his forehead, and said. “Gondru’s a good lad. I’ll have him thinking proper by the time you come out.”

“Hey,” Sandro said, “Anyone want to take bets on whether we all make it out?”

Inquisitor humor.

Properly spelled, his name is Watmor, and uses the Rus pronunciation. Yes, Rus like the mountain and highland people. As in pink skinned humans who live half a continent away from Othello.

Think of a Protector as part sentry, part militia, and two or three parts Arminger, maybe a part of Bodyguard in there, too. They weren’t fully any of those things, but they certainly weren’t lacking in shared abilities.

Yes, that’s a divine healer class for dwarves.